


circling

by annejumps



Category: Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 04:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20736482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: They are young men, and young men are passionate.





	circling

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small bit of something because I wanted to write the Prince's perspective of that wonderful tent entrance by Ali. I know I didn't do it justice, but it was fun.

As the reciter Selim speaks the words of the Koran, Prince Faisal muses to himself: One would think from the almost tentative way Lieutenant Lawrence rests against his pack that he is timid. 

One would think.

With a rustle, Ali walks into the tent like a black cat, stalking; and tonight his prey is Lawrence. 

Said Englishman registers his entrance without turning, but with a slight widening of his eyes and a quirk of his mouth, almost imperceptible, and Prince Faisal sees that he knows exactly who is walking toward him, and that Ali knows he knows. 

Ali stops next to Lawrence, far closer than is necessary, robes brushing him, and Faisal watches them. 

Ali had, of course, reported to him Lawrence’s doings at the Masturah well. Faisal had rarely seen his young sherif so moved to distraction by anyone. Now, however, he is doing his best to show every indication of control, of desire to intimidate.

This Lawrence cranes to look up at Ali, starting at his feet, gaze tracking upward slowly. He meets his gaze, as direct as the one he is given. Then, almost disdainful, he pointedly looks down at his pistol tucked in Ali’s belt, and turns away.

No, not timid. 

Ali stares back at the Englishman, unmoving, proud. Faisal raises his hand, and Selim pauses. 

“Greetings, Ali.”

“My lord.”

“Sherif Ali,” Colonel Brighton says, and Ali nods to him, smiles. 

“Lieutenant Lawrence,” Faisal says. “You have met Sherif Ali... I think.”

“Yes, my lord.” Now that Lawrence is forced to acknowledge him, only then does Ali take his seat; he does so with the pleasure of one making a point in imposing himself. 

Faisal stifles a laugh. Of course he would want to sit between the two British soldiers, directly before his lord. But there is a saddle to Lawrence’s left that he could have seated himself by; instead, he is leaning on Lawrence’s pack, and sitting close to him. Keeping an eye on this strange Englishman, letting him know he is being watched. Or is it only that? Lawrence leans away from him somewhat in mild exasperation, a brief twist to his mouth. 

Selim resumes, and Lawrence finishes for him. Ali stares openly, triumph and smugness replaced by astonishment. He looks to Faisal for his reaction.

Faisal is intrigued as well. “So!” he begins, but Brighton interrupts, clearly impatient and uncomfortable with this Oriental scripture and nonsense, unable to sit like this for long without pain in his knees. Ah well. There are serious matters to be discussed, after all.

Brighton wants to give them training, not guns like the ones the Turks have; not artillery, and not the navy. Lawrence, voice always soft, almost hesitant in manner if not in content, speaks out of turn, speaks against his superior, and Ali’s eyes widen.

As they argue, Ali leaning back to turn the full force of his impatience and contempt on the colonel, it does not escape Faisal’s notice that most likely without realizing it, Ali and Lawrence are leaning on each other’s shoulders at times: united suddenly in their strangely common cause. 

They are young men, and young men are passionate.

The prince says it of this fascinating Lawrence, in an attempt to assuage Lawrence’s bristling commanding officer. But as he says it, he thinks of Ali. Although Lawrence speaks with what seems to be genuine and strong conviction, he is nonetheless cool, his thoughts deliberate and gathered. Ali, however, has never been one to hide his feelings well.

Although there are far more serious things to contemplate this night, decisions to be made with the dawn, he does spare a moment to think of what a strange sense it makes, for Ali to be so affected by the very presence of this Lieutenant Lawrence. 

Ali is a good young sherif, loyal and courageous, but he is altogether too used to obeisance. Perhaps it will be good for him to encounter some resistance.

If only so Faisal can again catch that terribly amusing astonishment in the young man’s eyes as he stares at the Englishman. Who would have thought, really? And yet it was perfect. 

Truly, God’s ways were ineffable.


End file.
